"Mmph… it's morning," Bellatrix mumbled from where she lay. "That means it's Christmas morning. Happy Christmas, My Lord."

She pushed herself up to sit and shoved her curls out of her eyes with her right hand. Voldemort blinked up at her from where he lay. He smirked at her and said,

"Oh, good. Your lovely hair's all grown back from where it was burned away last night."

Bellatrix sighed. "I'm sorry. I really botched things, Master. Didn't I?"

He raised his eyebrows and put his hands behind his head. "You did, a bit. I sent letters to friends in the Ministry. I think I've got it under control."

"Some gift," Bellatrix muttered. She glanced down at her left arm, which was in a cast, and she asked, "How long does this blasted thing have to be on?"

"Usually only a week or so with the help of magic, I think," Voldemort said. "You know, when I was seven years old, I broke my arm falling down stairs in the orphanage. The Muggle doctor spent hours getting it splinted and cast and everything, and I had to be in the cast for two and a half months."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide. "Well, I'm glad it's not like that, My Lord."

"Ought to be loads of fun explaining in a week at the meeting why it is you're still banged up," he said, and Bellatrix's cheeks went hot.

"I'm truly sorry, Master."

"Mmm… you look pretty in the morning," Voldemort told her. He reached up for her reddened cheek. "You're pretty all the time, but… I was worried last night, when I saw you lying in the corridor. I don't much like worrying over you."

She smiled a little and covered his hand with hers. He peeled back the blankets a little and revealed the sizeable lump in his pyjama trousers. Bellatrix smirked and murmured,

"Men are often hard when they wake, hmm?"

"Been awake for over an hour," he told her. Bellatrix moved a little then, sliding until she was straddling him, and he hissed when he realised she didn't have knickers on beneath her short nightgown. Bellatrix threaded her right fingers through his thick hair, and she told him,

"I like the way your hair's a mess in the morning."

"Do you?" His breath hitched a little, and she tightened her fingers. She felt his firmness swell up beneath her, and she ground her hips down harder. Bellatrix leaned forward and touched her lips to his cheekbone, and she whispered,

"I've got all sorts of gifts for you downstairs, Master. Nothing expensive, seeing as I haven't got money. But you said you'd never celebrated Christmas properly, so…"

"I thought my gift was meant to be dead Mudbloods and burned out buildings," he laughed, and Bellatrix tucked her face into his neck.

"I'm sorry," she huffed. His hand went to her stomach, and he mumbled a quick contraceptive charm. Then she heard him ask in a quiet, almost uncertain voice,

"Do you want it, or are you too sore?"

"I want you." She was very certain, and she pulled back to nod vigorously at him.

He gave her a serious look and asked, "Am I going to hurt you?"

"No," Bellatrix said with feigned confidence. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her, but he pushed his pyjama trousers down a little, and Bellatrix felt herself flush wet with desire. She rose up and then sank down with his help, and she arched back at the feel of him entering her. He braced her against him, one hand at the small of her back and the other burrowed in her hair. Bellatrix snared her right arm around him once he was completely sheathed within her, and her left arm hung uselessly beside her. Suddenly one of Voldemort's hands squeezed a breast, and Bellatrix moaned a little as she rocked. She liked this; this felt good. It did ache distantly in her lower back. Her neck was hurting. But she ignored the pain and winced through it, burying her face into the crook of Voldemort's neck as she used her knees to help her move.

She wasn't going to come, not when it hurt like this. She was determined not to let him know that it hurt, but after just a moment, he took gentle hold of her waist, and he said softly,

"Yet another reason I need to teach you Occlumency."

"What?" Bellatrix breathlessly pulled back, and Voldemort gave her a judgmental look.

"Your back and neck hurt. Your arm's aching. You've still got a headache."

"No. I'm fine." Bellatrix started to move more vigorously, to rock with a purpose, and Voldemort leaned back against his hands as he stared up at her, shaking his head a little.

"I don't want to hurt… hurt… oh."

His eyes fluttered shut, and Bellatrix smirked. She raked her fingernails very gently down his bare chest, then rubbed with her one good hand at his shoulder and arm. She began pumping her hips until she could feel his tip slamming up inside of her, until he was grinding her just so, and in spite of her pain, her legs began to shake and her ears began to ring a little.

"I'm going to come," she whispered, and Voldemort scoffed in disbelief.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," she protested. She shut her eyes for a moment, and then she squeezed hard at Voldemort's bicep and ground herself in a way that felt just perfect ten or twelve times. Suddenly she lost herself, and she wrenched her eyes tightly shut as a subtle climax took her over. She'd certainly had more intense orgasms in her life, but it still felt good, and it still seemed to push Voldemort over his own phantom edge. He groaned rather loudly and seized Bellatrix's waist, making her yelp in pain.

"Sorry! Oh, Merlin's Beard. Sorry."

She opened her eyes to see him tip his head back and wordlessly grunt a little. She felt him twitch inside of her, and he collapsed back against his pillows as he released his grip on her. Bellatrix smiled and snaked her fingers into his hair again.

"We're a right mess," she noted as he came down from his high. They were, after all, tangled up, half-dressed, smelling of sex and morning breath, with Bellatrix in a cast. He laughed a little and shrugged.

"The first time you remember me having you, I was a grey-faced monster without a nose who refused to take my robes off. I'd say we're doing fine, all things considered."

"Well, I'm going to get dressed," Bellatrix said, "because I've got loads of presents for you."

"You… weren't joking." Voldemort grinned as he knelt beside the Christmas tree. Bellatrix adjusted the Wireless until carols were playing audibly in the lounge, and she curled up on the sofa. She smiled and told him,

"I sent away for everything by owl. Nothing's expensive. Promise."

His eyes welled a little then, so he turned his attention toward a random branch of the Christmas tree. In the first 1970s he remembered living, he'd never spent Christmas with Bellatrix. That would have been entirely too emotional. She'd always spent the holiday with her parents. Sometimes a card and a small gift would come to him by owl from her, but he always refused to acknowledge it. One year, he'd bought a pretty necklace for her, but he'd decided on Christmas Eve not to give it to her, and he'd wound up Vanishing it. He gulped hard and picked up one of the boxes under the tree here at Malfoy Manor, and when he opened the box, he said gratefully,

"An Ever-Cool Firewhisky Tumbler. That's very nice. Thank you."

"I could only afford one. Sorry." Bellatrix sounded self-conscious. She was used to being wealthy, Voldemort knew, but here, they still didn't have liquid assets. He set the glass on the low table in the centre of the lounge and assured her,

"You'll be the richest witch in wizarding Britain soon enough. Shopkeeps will give you merchandise for free to try and win my favour. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," she said with a meek smile. He tapped the glass and said again,

"Thank you."

He opened some more gifts - spruce-scented shampoo and conditioner, dragon jerky, a pleasantly oceanic cologne enchanted to last three days, hair pomade that would slick up his tresses without coming off on his hands, and three new crisp white shirts to go under his robes, along with two new ties. Voldemort realised the common denominator about all the gifts. They were all incredibly intimate. Personal grooming products. Clothes. Food she knew he liked. These were gifts a wife gave a husband, which, of course, made since, given that they were married. Still, as he raised his eyes to her and remembered Christmases spent knowing she was with Rodolphus, his stomach ached a little.

"Thank you, Bellatrix." He nodded and Banished all the gifts up to their suite with a quick swish of his wand. He Vanished the wrapping paper and stood, moving to sit beside her on the sofa. He folded his hands over the lap of the velvet dressing-gown he wore, and he admitted, "I didn't get you anything besides the boots, I'm afraid. I wasn't expected a big gift exchange; we've never done one."

"Well, the tradition begins now," Bellatrix exclaimed, and her grin was so pretty that Voldemort's chest hurt. He tucked her hair behind her ear and said,

"You know, my favourite gift is the mess you made outside Bournemouth."

She laughed a bit and reminded him, "It didn't really turn out as a gift, Master."

"It's the thought that counts," he said with a smirk. Then, going serious, he told her, "Happy Christmas, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix picked at the sofa a little bit and asked carefully, "Did I ever… did we ever spend this day together?"

"No," he said honestly, turning his eyes to the fire. "You were always with your parents, or, later, Rodolphus. I was always alone. I never minded until you were with him."

"With Rodolphus," Bellatrix said softly, and Voldemort cleared his throat.

"I've told you that I wasn't the same afterward. I think it was my biggest mistake, marrying you off to him. I turned myself into a paranoid, weak shell of a… I was ruined. I remember Christmas of 1979. I vividly remember it, because it was snowing, which was unusual. At the next meeting, you had these new boots on, these black ugly boots that Rodolphus had given you, and you were bragging that they'd been nice and snowproof. I remember wondering if you'd just thrown mine into the rubbish bin. It was… stupid. I don't know."

Bellatrix shifted on the sofa beside him, and she reminded him, "He isn't even born yet here, and I'm married to you, and you've given me beautiful boots that I shall treasure forever, and it's Christmas, and we are together. Master."

"Mmm-hmm." He turned his face to her and nodded solemnly. "I'm going to do things the right way this time, Bellatrix."

"I'll help by not mucking up missions from now on," she promised with a sad little smile, and he laughed, reaching to brush his knuckles over the cast on her left arm.

"Happy Christmas, Bellatrix."

"Happy Christmas, My Lord."

Author's Note: I hate complaining about reviews, but the last chapter currently has 236 views and zero reviews! Eek! I hope that doesn't mean people hated it! Or maybe FF isn't showing me reviews? IDK! I'm just not used to seeing that many people read it without any feedback at all. If you get just a quick moment to drop me a line, I'd really appreciate it! Thanks so much.

And, yes, if you were paying attention, we do have a meeting of the brand spanky new Death Eater organization coming on up… just in time for Voldemort's birthday. What will that meeting look like? And has he actually managed to cover up damage from Bellatrix being seen by Muggles, or will there be fallout? And did he mention teaching her Occlumency? Mwah hahahaha…